


gonna make a comeback

by annamatopia



Series: burning ropes and bridges [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Allspeak (Marvel), Gen, Magic, Thor Is Not Stupid, Thor-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 09:26:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6605521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annamatopia/pseuds/annamatopia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>look, thor's not stupid, is all he wants to say. it's just that magic is complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	gonna make a comeback

**Author's Note:**

> so I get really tired of woobie!thor and yelling!thor and however else the fandom writes him, and there are almost no thor-centric fics anywhere to be found. (ps. if you have any I would gladly take recs. hmu on tumblr, same username.)

Thor is not stupid.

He knows that his new companions think him dull-witted, quaint, not least of which in the ways of their culture and their technology. But they are wrong, at least in part. Their customs and lifestyle are unfamiliar to him, true. But their technology is laughably ancient and simple.

This does not stop Stark from mocking him every time Thor accidentally crushes another communication device between his fingers. How is he to blame that Midgardians cannot make their technology strong enough? The little devices are smaller than his palm, with only an insensitive touchscreen. It doesn’t even project the images displayed on it as he has seen in Stark’s personal workshop.

He draws solace in Captain Rogers; he, too, experiences the difficulties of the modern Midgardian culture. Though he has not broken nearly as many devices as Thor. 

They are the only two members of their team who are able to fight without fear of hurting one another; together, they learn. The Captain shows Thor how to use the punching bags, how to apply just the right amount of power so as to test his limits without breaking the bags free from the hanging chain. Thor teaches him how to fling knives and perfectly breach the target every time.

The Captain tosses him a small bottle of water after a lengthy and fulfilling spar. “So, how is it you magically speak English? Pretty sure Asgard isn’t on the same wavelength in language,” he says, tipping his own water down his throat.

Thor keeps a very straight face and shrugs. “The Allspeak allows me to understand and converse in any language I may encounter.” He doesn’t mention the literal magic element to Asgardian speech, and the mastery over which he possesses more than most.

“Huh.” The Captain rubs a towel across the back of his neck. “That’s kinda neat. So you know all languages, ever?”

That is... not exactly how it works.

The Allspeak is not all-knowing. Thor is finding it increasingly difficult to explain this to his teammates, who constantly scorn his speech. He doesn’t have the words to tell them the Allspeak cannot compensate for a lifetime of technology and science and magic they cannot hope to understand.

Mostly, Thor simply lets them argue it out amongst themselves. They have been at it for thirty minutes, by the mark of the cooking clock.

“It’s like putting ‘do you want to build a snowman’ into google translate through ten different languages and coming up with ‘they want to build a man of the snow.’” Barton pauses. “I mean. That’s actually pretty accurate.”

They are all gathered in the large room which holds the kitchen and a living area with couches and chairs and a large viewing screen Thor has been given to understand is called a _television_. The only one missing is the Captain--Steve--who, thirty minutes ago, made an off-hand remark regarding Allspeak to their assembled teammates and promptly left to shower.

Stark snorts. “Or--hey, Point Break, when was the last time you were on Midgard?”

Thor considers. “It has been some centuries in your time, I think.”

“Hah!” Stark snaps his fingers. “So it’s more like the difference between Middle English and modern English!”

Thor isn’t certain this translates correctly through Allspeak. “Middle English?”

It is Banner who answers, glancing up from some calculations he is forming on his tablet. “Oh, it’s not really another language. It’s an early variation of English, the transition period between Old English and what we speak today.”

“And that period was right around when all the Norse guys invaded England. And Thor’s a Norse god.” Stark buffs his nails on the front of his shirt, looking pleased with himself.

Barton’s eyes narrow. “You looked all that up just so you could look smart and win this argument, didn’t you.”

“I did take several English courses to get my two masters and three doctorates, dumbass.”

“What was that, forty years ago, old man?”

“Bite me, Barton.” A scuffling match ensues and they both fall over the back of the sofa. Hopefully there are no bones broken. 

The lady Natasha stays out of these discussions, he has noticed. Thor thinks back to their stilted confrontation. She had been frightened of him, small and weak, and he had attempted to put her fears at ease. So she, at least, had known of the Allspeak before the Captain discovered it, and consequently before the rest of his comrades took it upon themselves to argue about it. Perhaps she felt smug.

 

“That’s not what an apology sounds like!” Stark yells from behind the sofa. Banner, who to Thor’s great admiration has acquired a talent for wholly disregarding Stark and Barton’s combined antics, doesn’t even look up. Thor and Natasha exchange glances. Thor decides he has had enough company for one night.

He doesn’t stay to see the end of the scuffle and makes his way to the rooms Stark has made for him. The night air from the balcony cools soothes his emotions and gives him renewed breath. He can feel Mjolnir’s power whispering from inside the door, taste the crackle of undeveloped static in the atmosphere, but he closes his eyes and waits. Now is not the time for a storm.

Instead, he leans on the railing and unfolds his hand. He is no _seiðkonur_ , but he has some small skill in conjuring and illusions. He has started a fire or three in his day, in the middle of a torrential downpour using green kindling. A little subtle prodding at Stark’s ridiculous appliances. Correcting Jane’s mathematics from across the room when she has had too little sleep and is not paying attention. And sometimes, when Midgard is too much, when he misses Asgard and his brother so much his heart aches, he draws on little harmless tricks he knew once upon a time.

Like the ravens.

His brother taught him this trick when they were children. Thor had thought that, as the crown prince and warrior in training, there was no room for magic in his life. Loki taught him otherwise.

He brings his palm to his lips and blows across it. From his breath fly tiny black ravens. Their whispy wings flap into blurs, but they only orbit his fingers. They are silent; he has not the finesse to give them speech.

He watches them for some time, feeling cool wind across his face and the tiny buzz of magic in and around him. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine he is back in Asgard.

A mechanical squeak catches his attention. He shifts long enough to see Barton frozen halfway through the doorway, raises one eyebrow.

“I was just--” Barton stares, jaw slack, eyes locked on the conjurations fluttering around Thor’s hands. “I--I didn’t know you could do that.”

Thor wants to say that he is the crown prince; he has used _seiðr_ so long he cannot remember his first use, mjolnir since he could hold her in his hand. The early years of his life he spent at his mother’s knee learning the basic arts of sorcery. Asgardian technology, the science Stark loves to lord over him, grounds its basic principles in the magic of the universe.

But when he opens his mouth, he finds he cannot be so harsh. “It is not so uncommon in Asgard as you would think.”

Barton sidles all the way through the sliding door and leans agains the rail next to him. “Advanced technology equals magic and shit, right?”

Natasha had said much the same, and Thor says so.

“Of course she did.” Barton laughs. “She pretends she hates that stuff, but Nat’s read her way through every sci-fi writer whose books made it to the SHIELD safehouses.”

They stand quietly for a few moments. Thor wills the ravens to hover next to Barton, who quirks the corner of his mouth when he thinks Thor isn’t looking. Thor wonders if he would appreciate more of the little parlor tricks, but decides against it when he remembers Barton’s mind enslaved under Loki. He may not yet be ready for such things.

Barton breaks the silence first. “Is it hard, when people think you’re dumb?”

Thor glances over, surprised. He had not thought that any of his companions would care enough to mark his mild discomfort with their teasing. “So you have noticed.”

He shrugs nonchalantly, but Thor sees an undercurrent of tension in his shoulders, like it is a great effort to force out the words. “Yeah, people underestimate me too. They always think I’m stupid but I’m not and it’s tough, you know?” Barton stares out at the city beneath them. “The trajectories you’ve gotta guess on the fly, to shoot like I do, it’s all advanced geometry and a little physics. Stark’s got another thing comin’ for him when he finally figures out I get all his stupid little science jokes.”

Some of Barton’s vernacular escapes Thor’s comprehension. He tilts his head and mimics a sly Natasha. “I eagerly await the day Stark makes a mistake in my presence and I can finally correct his science,” he admits. “By this.” He wiggles his fingers at the ravens.

Barton snorts loudly, then chokes, and then he’s doubling over and cackling, nearly wheezing. “Oh my god,” he gasps. “Oh my _god I would pay you money_ to put that look on Stark’s face, please _please_ do it, I need this in my life _right now_.”

Thor grins. “Then I will ensure it happens soon.”

For all his arrogance and feigned indifference, Stark is truly generous to them all, and can on occasion be kind and unerstanding.

That doesn’t mean Thor will not take the opportunity to give him a taste of his own medicine.


End file.
